The Bad Touch
by Hoedogg
Summary: Simon tries to help the twins after he learns their heartbreaking secret.


TITLE: " The Bad Touch"  
AUTHOR: Hoedogg  
RATING: R for dark themes and language.  
DISTRIBUTION: Just ff.net for now.  
SUMMARY: Simon tries to help the twins after he finds out their heartbreaking secret.  
WARNING: Contains spoilers through S8 episode 3.   
DISCLAIMER: "7th Heaven" and its characters do not belong to me. They are cash cows milked by Brenda Hampton, Aaron Spelling, the WB, ABCFamily, and probably many other corporate fat cats as well.

A/N:  This is a ficlet based upon a very strange scene which took place toward the end of Season 8, Episode 3.  I took it and ran with it.  It got very dark, especially after the Red Sox depressed me by losing the ALCS in such dramatic fashion.  There's also some language and mature themes.

***

Alone I sit behind the bent-up steering wheel of this car, my legs pinned under the crumpled dash.  The nose of the car is angled upward, and water is rising from the backseat and the floor, telling me not to worry with its tinkling little tune, caressing me into calmness with its thousands of icy little fingers.

I have no idea how I got here.  In fact, I can't remember much of anything.  Maybe I hit my head during the crash.

Everything's quiet and hazy.  The trickle of the water sounds like a low, lamenting lullaby.  Soft sunlight streams through the completely cracked windshield as if it were a white canvas tent...

***

I knew something was wrong when I saw them sleeping under that bizarre-looking white sheet-tent thing.  They looked so cold, lying there on top of the blankets, shirtless.  Sam looked as though he would have been shivering to death if he weren't huddled close against Happy's warm fur.  David, next to him, looked bunched up as if his arms were trying to hold as much heat as they could inside his little body.  Still, I tried not to think much about it as I turned toward my room.  I tried not to think much about anything anymore.  Thinking hurt.

But then I saw the next clue that things were off:  a similar sheet-tent atop my bed.  I walked through the normally closed dividing doorway between the twins' room and mine, which was now wide open, and curiously peeked inside the tent.  And there she was.

Simon do you want to get back together no I don't want to get back together why are you being so distant because I killed a kid Cecilia what part of that don't you understand?  The same conversation I'd had with her fifty times over the summer.  I was tired of it.  I threw her ass out again.

But that didn't eliminate the nagging feeling in the back of my head.  Something was not right.  What had she been doing here?

I walked back over to the twins' bed and gently shook Sam out of his slumber.  "Sammy, wake up."

"Mmm…Simon?" he grumbled drowsily.

"Yeah, it's me.  Sam, I know you're tired, but I need to talk to you for a minute."

He struggled to sit up while David continued to sleep next to him, oblivious.  Happy looked up at us for a moment with her sad, black eyes, then rolled closer to David as if she were trying to keep him warm.  I slipped over to the twins' clothing drawer, pulled out a sweatshirt, and helped Sam to slip it over his head.

"So, Sammy, was Cecilia babysitting you tonight?"

"Mm-hmm.  She had to because there was no one else at home," he answered as he groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

No one else at home.

"What did you do with Cecilia?"

"We had lots of fun," he seemed to wake up a bit as he answered.

"Really?  What did you do that was fun?"

"We played Cowboys and Indians."  Sam formed an "O" with his lips and began patting it with his hands, making an "Oo-oo-oo!" Indian noise.

"Shh!" I grabbed his arm.  "Don't wake up your brother."

Sam looked compassionately at David and stroked his twin's hair gently.  "He's tired.  Cecilia played with him more than me."

Cecilia played with him.  I tried to shake the awful thought out of my head.  He didn't mean it the way my hormonal teenage mind interpreted it.  Did he?

"So, Sam, in this game of Cowboys and Indians, what exactly did you guys do?"

"Cecilia painted mustaches on our faces and we wore cowboy hats and we pretended to shoot at Cecilia and it was fuuun."

I sighed with relief.  It sounded innocent enough.  Maybe the worst had only happened in my imagination after all.  "So that was all you did?"

"No, silly Simon.  That was just the cowboy part.  Then we played the Indian part."

"And what happened then?"

"Cecilia said we had to take off our shirts because Indians don't wear shirts."

My heart fell into my stomach.  "She said…what?"

"So we took our shirts off and we ran around like Indians."  He made the "Oo-oo-oo!" motion again, but silently this time.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was completely dry and my throat felt swollen shut.  Somehow, I managed to croak the words, "And what happened next?"

Sam smiled.  "Then Cecilia tickled David for a long time.  He laughed and laughed and laughed…"

Oh, hell no she didn't.  "Sam, where did she tickle David?"

He looked at his brother for a moment and then pointed to his tummy.  "Here."  Then he pointed to David's armpit.  "And here."

I looked at him seriously for a few seconds and, perhaps sensing that I was about to ask something significant, he returned my gaze.  "Sam, this is really important.  Did Cecilia touch you or David anywhere else?"

Sam put a few fingers in his mouth and looked at me as if he were trying to decide whether to answer me or not.  After a few seconds, he removed his fingers and whispered, "It's a secret."

A secret?  Not good.  Not good at all.

I held my gaze on him, looked as deeply into his eyes as I could, hoping to make him understand my level of concern.  "Sam, I remember when I was younger I used to have secrets that I didn't want Matt to find out about.  But whenever he found out about them, he was almost always able to say or do something to help me.  Sam, as your big brother I need you to tell me your secret right now so I can help you.  Did Cecilia touch you or David anywhere else?"

Sam hugged himself and shook his head left to right forcefully.  "No no no, it's a secret and Cecilia said she would be really really mad if we told.  We don't want Cecilia to be mad.  We looove her!"

The boy was trying my patience.  "Well you love me too, and I'm going to be even madder if you don't tell me."

He pouted at me but remained silent.  I felt like I was about to snap inside.  My growing concern for my little brothers, my simmering anger toward Cecilia, and all the other shit I'd been feeling for the whole summer, all swirled together to cause a violent tornado in my stomach.  In my frustrated and panicked state I moved to an almost entirely unfamiliar approach in order to get Sam to speak:  I balled up my fist and said, "Sam, if you don't tell me I'm going to hit you!"

He cowered a bit and whimpered, "Don't hurt me, Simon."

"Then tell me where else Cecilia touched him!" I growled as I raised my fist, silently hating myself for threatening a boy who might have already suffered abuse.

Reluctantly, Sam said, "She made us change for bed and when we did she touched him there."

I followed his fingers with my eyes and my worst fears were confirmed.  The tornado ripped through my insides, and the room began to spin.  I dashed to the bathroom just in time to vomit into the sink.

After washing my face with cold water I returned to the twins' room.  My head felt so light and fuzzy that for a second I thought maybe I had been dreaming.  Maybe I had drunk some more of that party punch like I had a couple years ago and it had fucked me up good and I was just dreaming crazy things.

"Simon, are you okay?"

"Huh?  Oh, yeah, Sam, I'm alright," I lied.  No need for him to worry about me.  The more important question was if _he_ was okay.  I looked back at him and barely choked out the question, "Sammy, did she touch you too, the same place she touched David?"

He bit his wrist and nodded yes.

Yes.  My ex-girlfriend touched my brothers.  My four-year-old brothers.

"Don't be mad, Simon.  It didn't hurt.  It was just a game."

I looked at him sitting there, so innocent.  It took all my resolve to hold back the tears that desperately wanted to leap from my eyes.  I knew he didn't understand the meaning of what had happened, but I asked anyway, "Sam, has anyone ever told you the difference between a good touch and a bad touch?"

He shook his head no.

Of course not.  No one had ever spent enough time with Sam and David.  No one had taught them reading or writing or numbers or explained important things to them like don't talk to strangers or good touch bad touch.  Hell, no one had ever really just plain talked with them.  Matt was in New York, Mary in Florida, Lucy busy with her new husband, Ruthie with her new boyfriend, Mom and Dad butting into everyone else's business, and then me.  Me, just sitting around all summer being miserable about accidentally killing a kid.  Me, ignoring the two little brothers I had wanted for so much of my younger life.  Me, selfishly going away to make a video to get myself into a college and away from home, leaving the twins behind without a second thought.  

Funny how, when they arrived in this world, we almost immediately started to take them for granted.  Sad that it took this incident for me to realize it.

Feeling bogged down with guilt, I hugged Sam tightly and he hugged me back.  "What Cecilia did to you and David was a bad touch.  This is a good touch," I explained to him.  Why did I wait until too late to teach him something so simple?  Why did the family leave the twins in Cecilia's grabby hands without a second thought?  I turned my eyes upward to silently ask these questions to God, not expecting an answer; the white makeshift tent sheet filtered the ceiling light like a cracked windshield filtering the sun…

***

The light that was coming through the windshield before is dying down now.  Darkness is beginning to set in.  The cold water is up to my waist, trying to send numbness from my broken legs through my nervous system to my brain as a respite.

The temporary crash-induced amnesia was a blessing.  I don't want these memories to come back to me, even if I only have a short time left.  I don't ever want to have to believe that these things actually happened…

***

"What do you mean you don't believe me?"

"Simon, I'm telling you.  I came over to the house with Detective Michaels's granddaughter, and there was absolutely nothing strange going on between Cecilia and the twins.  They were dressed for bed and making play tents.  It was perfectly harmless."

"But Kevin, Sam _told_ me!  He wouldn't lie to me about something like this."

Kevin just shrugged.  "Simon, sometimes kids make up stories."

"Not stories like this.  Come on, Kevin, you're a cop.  You know this kind of thing has to be taken seriously."

Kevin glared at me and squinted.  "Are you telling me how to do my job?  Because believe me, I'm aware of what my duties are as an officer in this type of situation.  And as an officer, I've made the decision that I didn't see anything unusual, and you should just drop it."

"But Kevin…"

"Drop it, Camden!  Cecilia is a friend of Lucy's, and Lucy wouldn't be friends with someone who would do something like that."  Kevin ran a hand through his hair and looked as if he were considering saying something.  Then he went ahead and said it:  "Look, just because you two are going through an ugly breakup doesn't mean you get to make up nasty stories about her."

I stared at him in shock.  "Is that really what you think I'm doing?" I asked him, my voice unintentionally betraying all the pain that his mistrust had inflicted upon me.

He rolled his eyes.  "Aw, geez, Camden.  Look, I know you've been moody ever since that accident, but if you start crying now, I swear to God I'll just go back up to the apartment to be with my wife.  I don't believe you, okay?  Just deal with it."

"You know what?  Just get out of my face," I spat bitterly.

"Fine."  He walked toward the door then looked back at me with a sneer, adding, "And I'm going to do you a favor and forget that this conversation ever took place.  I suggest you do the same.  And try to drop the bitterness against Cecilia while you're at it."

Then he left, and I sat there alone in the kitchen, trying hard not to cry like Kevin thought I would, wondering how a piece of shit like him could make me feel like _I_ was the one who was a piece of shit.  His mistrust was completely devastating, like a gut-punch from a heavyweight title-holder.  He was supposed to be an officer of the law, someone I could trust above and beyond a normal citizen.  Yet he didn't even show the first ounce of concern about the possibility that his brothers-in-law might have been molested by their babysitter.  His assholishness was just another clear reason for me to run as far away from the house as possible.

But what about the twins?  If a police officer like Kevin wouldn't help them in this situation, then who would?

Certainly not Mom and Dad.  Mom was away caring for Grandpa, and Dad was the one who had invited Cecilia over in the first place.  And I was sure he had done it in the hopes that she and I would start dating again, and that she would be able to help distract my mind from all the dark places it had roamed since the accident.  He was wrong, of course.  I had wanted nothing to do with her even before I found out how sleazy she was.

But there was never any telling Dad he was wrong.  No way would he ever believe that the girl he deemed suitable date material for me would molest his pre-school aged sons.  If I told him something like that, he would just blow me off like Kevin had, albeit in a much more polite and caring fashion.  I didn't need to deal with that shit on top of everything else.

Lucy couldn't be trusted either, since she always let Kevin do all the thinking for her. Ruthie was too young to deal with a problem like this.  Matt and Mary were too far away to do anything to help.  There was no one else around to help them.  No one but me.

So how did I figure I could save them?  By following the only logical path my impulsive teenage mind could focus on at the time.  With everything so fucked up at home and no sign of things ever getting better, it was time for us to go.  I packed a travel bag for the three of us, collected all my money, and grabbed my car keys.  Then I slung one heavy, sleeping boy over each shoulder, and carried them out to my car.

We left "home" behind for good and sped into the darkness of the night…

***

Nighttime is here and the water is up above my shoulders.  It has become apparent that no one is coming to rescue me.  No one knows I'm trapped here.

Just below my ears, the water whispers that everything is fine.  It reminds me that it massaged my painful legs first with its frosty touch, then it worked its way upward and caressed my fingers and chest.  It tells me that soon it will reach my nostrils and enter my lungs to wrap its cold grip around my insides.  I can hardly wait to feel its peace inside me…

***

I knew that in order to gain any sense of peace inside me before I drove the twins and myself far away from Glenoak, I would have to confront Cecilia about what she had done.  I parked the car in front of her house and left the engine running while the twins slept soundly in the backseat.

She answered her door promptly, almost as if she had been expecting me.  "Simon, I thought you said we couldn't see each other anymore, and that was only, like, five minutes ago!" she chirped with a smug smile and a bobble of her bleached blond head.

"Cecilia, I need to talk to you out here right now!"

"Okay."  She stepped onto the front porch with me and shut the door behind her.  "What's the matter?"

"You know good and goddamn well what the matter is," I snarled at her.

She feigned surprise.  "What?"

I breathed in and out heavily, mentally trying to talk myself out of belting her.  "That little game you played with the twins."

"What?  Cowboys and Indians?"

"Oh cut the shit, Cecilia!  I know how you touched them.  Sam told me everything!"

A bit of worry began to show beneath her façade, but she continued to lie, "Simon, I still don't have a clue what you're talking about."

I took three steps backward and looked at her with disgust.  "Oh, you know.  You know exactly what I'm talking about.  Why did you do it, Cecilia?  Why?"

She looked out at the car, saw the twins sleeping in the backseat, and began to tear up.  "I love you Simon," she answered incongruously.

I walked up to her until I was within inches of her face.  "No you don't," I asserted angrily.  "If you loved me, then you wouldn't have done this."

"You don't understand," she moaned as she turned to face me.  "I did this _because_ I love you so much."

I shook my head in disbelief.  "That doesn't even make any sense."

"I told you you wouldn't understand," she sobbed.

"That's 'cause there's nothing to understand, other than the fact that you're completely fucked up."

"I know!" she bawled.  "I know I am.  I just thought…" she trailed off as she looked back to the car.  "They're just like you, Simon.  So sweet, and blond, and fragile, and no one understands them.  They needed me, Simon, just like you need me…"  
She reached for me but I backed up again until I was almost falling off the edge of the porch.  "They did _not_ need you to touch them.  And I don't need you either."

More tears.  After a moment, she asked, "Simon, you remember my Uncle Walter, who we found out was stealing from my father's business?"

I shook my head for a minute, trying to follow her random subject change.  "Yeah, but what does that have to do with…"

"He touched me.  The way I touched the twins.  He touched me like that when I was just a young girl."

I swallowed hard and looked away.  No.  This sympathy shit was not going to work on me.  I hardened my eyes, looked back at her, and said, "Listen, Cecilia, I'm sorry Walter did that to you, but it's no excuse for what you did to Sam and David.  If you're messed up because of Walter, then you need to see a counselor or something…"

"No!  I need you, Simon!  You're the only one who makes me feel better!" she flung herself at me melodramatically, but I sidestepped her and she ended up flying into the bushes next to the porch.

The tornado was beginning to churn in my stomach again and I couldn't take it anymore, so I stepped off the porch and walked back toward the car.  "Get help, Cecilia," I mumbled back to her as she lay crying in the bushes.  Then I opened the car door and sat down, ready to leave Glenoak for good.

Despite the aversion to driving that I had developed over the summer, I had never been happier to strap myself in behind the wheel than I was at that moment.  For the first time in my life, I felt like the road was completely open before me.  No roadblocks, no obstacles, no one telling me what to do or where to go.  I was in control.

I decided the best place to go would be New York.  It would be a long drive, but when we got there we could stay with Mary.  She would be cool about it.  After all, she married Carlos and got pregnant months before she told the family, so I figured she would have no trouble keeping it a secret if the twins and I showed up there.

I navigated the car to the nearest interstate and headed east.  I drove for hours and hours until the sun came up, at which time the twins awoke and declared that they were hungry and had to pee.  We stopped at a modest roadside diner somewhere in Nevada that was filled with anonymous truckers and hard-living waitresses who didn't bother to look at us twice.

After filling our bellies and paying, we hit the road again.

I hadn't slept in over a day.

We drove for much of the day until we hit the mountains.

Maybe it was a mistake.

Up we drove, up to where the air began to get cold.

Even when you have the best of intentions, sometimes you make mistakes and things come out for the worst.

Sam and David were excited because other than a trip to the beach house, they had not seen much outside of Glenoak in their short lives.

I tried to focus on the road I swear I did.

The boys gasped at the beauty of the smog-free sunset.

The sunset in my rearview mirror added beautiful, distracting color to the drive.

The twins clapped and squealed with glee and shouted "Bambi!" when they saw a fawn eating grass alongside the highway.

My thoughts were distracted from the road by the sunset and the deer and I remembered I had been excited when we left so many hours ago about hitting the open road and controlling my own destiny because I had never been in that situation what with Mom and Dad controlling my every decision and Matt always telling me what to do and always someone else backseat driving my life but now it was me behind the wheel.

I knew we had a lot of driving ahead of us in order to reach our destination and I was tired but I wanted to get there as fast as possible.

Distracted half-conscious thoughts continued to slip through my head horrible thoughts like Cecilia touching the twins and me killing Paul Smith and Mom exiling me to the treehouse and telling everyone I was a virgin and Dad smothering me with his brand of controlling love and yelling at me for not behaving like a man and all these thoughts swirling together creating the kind of horrifying emotional vortex that only a half-conscious nightmare can and it distracted me and I didn't notice my eyelids growing so heavy.

I don't know at what exact point my eyelids closed.

I remember hearing screams from the backseat, a queasy feeling in my stomach, the feeling of centrifugal force as the car rolled over and over, hoping it was all just part of my half-conscious dream…

***

I don't remember waking up.  The first thing I remember is the chilly feeling of the water slowly running its fingers up my leg.  Slowly running, so slowly that I had enough time to sit here and recall all the horrifying incidents that led up to this accident, with the water whispering sweet nothings to me all the while.

Except now that the water is up to my chin, it's starting to change its tune.  Maybe it's not such a sweet thing to die yet, it suggests.  Not until you know the twins are going to be safe.  You, trying to play protector to the twins.  Ha.  What a joke, the water whispers.  Some protector you are.

Even when you have the best of intentions, sometimes you make mistakes and things come out for the worst, I tell the water.  I meant well, I really did.  I meant to start a new life with Mary and Carlos and Sam and David in New York, a healthy, happy life away from all the emotional neglect and abuse back home.  It could have worked.  I just didn't get us there.

Wrong.  Your reasons for leaving were selfish, the water hisses.  Selfish sinner Simon.  The way you cast Cecilia aside.  A true Christian understands that you should hate the sin and not the sinner.  You could have helped her with her problem, but instead you left her crying in the bushes.  Left her to run away with the twins on your selfish mission, using their predicament as the excuse to leave home that you've been looking for since the Paul Smith incident.  And, in fact, you've been looking for that excuse since even before you killed Paul Smith.  You know it's true, selfish sinner Simon.

A tear escapes my eye and drops from my chin, joining the mass of its brethren below.  You're right about one thing, I tell the water.  I've been trying to think of a way to get away for so long.  I hate it so much at home.  Mom is so scary now and Dad is so completely out of touch and Kevin is such a prick and Matt and Mary knew they had to get away and so do I.  I have to get away…

Shhh, the water whispers.  You've succeeded in getting away, selfish Simon.  But don't you realize that kidnapping Sam and David and crossing state lines was a felony?  You could have chosen to help them by staying at home and spending more time with them, protecting them from all the bad things around them until they were capable of surviving on their own.  But instead you kidnapped and endangered them in your mad quest to leave home.  You are a felon and a sinner, Simon Camden, says the icy cold water, and where you will be headed momentarily is a lot warmer than it is in this car right now.

Shut up, I tell the water.  That's not true.  I wasn't being selfish.  You know I had to leave home.  There was no way I could have protected the twins from all the bad shit going on there.  It got so bad that sometimes I felt like there was only one way out, and I think you know what I'm talking about.  So just shut up.  I'm not listening to you anymore.

It's kind of poetic, though, the water gurgles on, ignoring me.  This is the car you killed a kid in.  This is the car I will kill you in.  And actually, let's think about that:  killed _one_ kid?  Hell, you might have just upped the death count to three going on four.  You don't even know what happened to the twins, do you?  Are they dead or alive?  Are they still in the backseat, their bodies crushed by twisted metal and submerged under my cold hands?  Or were they tossed out of the vehicle during the fall, unconscious but alive and breathing?

Shut up!  Look, you're right, I don't know what happened to Sam and David, okay?  But taunting me with this fact while staunchly refusing to reveal the answer isn't helping.  You think I'm not terrified for them?  You think I wouldn't give anything to make sure they're okay?  But see, the problem is that right now I'm pinned beneath this dashboard unable to move, and you're about to cover my nose and then I won't be able to breathe anymore.

Yes, the water chuckles.  Death will overtake you, followed by an eternity of suffering.

Why do you keep saying that?  I had the best of intentions.  I really did.  That counts for something in the grand scheme of things, despite the outcome, doesn't it?  Doesn't it!

The water is silent.

Oh God, I have to find the twins now and make sure they're safe.  I have to find them now!  But I can't move.  Oh God, the water is going up my nose and I can't move.  It's running down my windpipe and into my lungs and I can't breathe!  Where are Sam and David?  Where are they!  I need to find them now!  This can't be the end!  I need to find the twins and make sure they're safe!  Surely the water that has kept me company all this time will take pity upon me!  Surely this can't be the…

END

***

EPILOGUE

"Simon, come on, wake up!"

Disoriented, I awaken wondering where I am and who just spoke to me.  I open my eyes to look, but the surfaces are coated with a sleepy film.  After rubbing the film away with my fists, I take in my surroundings.  I am in an all-white room with sunlight – the brightest I have ever seen – streaming in through an open window.  The bed I am lying in is the most comfortable I have ever felt.  I look to my left and see that the voice of my awakener belongs to David.  He is standing by the bed next to his little brother, Sam.  The bright sunlight backlights them, creating a halo effect.

"Come on, Simon.  We'll be late!"

Sam grabs my hand and pulls me out of bed.  I notice that I am dressed in a soft, plush white robe.  Fluffy white slippers next to the bed invite me to slide my feet into them.  I do, and they fit perfectly.

"Where are we?" I ask the twins.

They look at each other and giggle.  Then David grabs my right hand and Sam my left.  They pull me gently toward an open doorway, which leads into a long white hallway lined with windows along one side.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Breakfast," David answers.  "Grandma hates it when we're late."

"Grandma Ruth is here?" I ask.

"No, silly Simon," Sam says.  "Our other Grandma."

I think for a minute.  "You mean Grandma Jenny?"

Sam nods.

I am confused.  "But, Grandma Jenny is dead.  She died before you guys were born."

David and Sam exchange puzzled looks.  Sam turns back to me and says, "She's not dead.  David and I ate breakfast with her for the past three days while we were waiting for you to wake up.  She keeps asking about you."

Suddenly, realization dawns upon me.  However, even though it is a major epiphany, I do not feel frightened.  Rather I feel full, warm, and peaceful.  At the same time I sense a distant memory, being trapped in a car somewhere, being whispered to by water.  But that feels as if it happened many years ago, very far away.  Everything now feels light and warm and joyful.  I now know that the water was lying to me, and I cannot help but smile.

"What are you smiling at, Simon?" David asks.

I let go of his hand and rub his soft, blond hair.  David, my sweet brother who suffered on earth but shall suffer no more.  

"Oh, nothing, kiddo."  I look out a window at the bright sunshine for a moment and add, "I'm just happy to be here.  Now let's go see Grandma."

END EPILOGUE


End file.
